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    Posted: 04/September/2013 at 21:31

*At 5 o'clock, the Channel 5 News intro rolls over the broadcast. The camera strafes and focuses on the lead anchor, Veronica Corningstone, an attractive woman with blonde hair and blue eyes, who straightens her notes with a somber frown as the intro ends, and she looks into the camera lens. *


Veronica: Hello I'm Veronica Corningstone, and this is Channel 5 News at 5. Our top story tonight is a continuation of the reports that have been streaming in all week. Another bank, The Bank of America Merril-Lynch has been hacked and robbed from, according to sources within the company, the fifth in a recent string of computer thefts here in Text ColourNew York City. More than 400 personal accounts were completely cleared out and emptied, along with 2 high security vaults. Sources tell us that the attacks, while seemingly random, could indicate a pattern that has plagued police officials and government specialists all this week. Our viewers want to know, IS our money safe?? We go now live to lead investigative reporter Robert Grey for the in-depth story. Robert?


*The camera cuts to a man in his early 40s with a streak of grey nuzzling the ends of his sideburns. He wears a brown trench coat to combat the chilling November weather as he stands outside the bank in question, microphone in hand. *


Robert: Thank you Veronica. When questioning the bank officials, the sense of urgency and frustration is easily visible. An entire overhaul of the information department has begun, in response to hundreds of inquiries as to exactly whose bank accounts were hit. My sources tell me that the process will take weeks, if not months, to accurately gauge the damage. But before I was able to get any further information, federal officials arrived and declared the issue sealed off from journalistic investigation until the suspect has been apprehended. This mirrors the recent string of robberies that have occurred throughout the city in the past 4 days, and nearly copying the same mode of operation.


The computer system was hacked into and the funds from some 412 personal accounts were transferred to an unknown server, which has sense been found untraceable as of yet by law enforcement officials. The exact total of money is not clear at this point to public sources, but a statement by an undisclosed FBI official has confided that “we are doing all we can to find the perpetrator and apprehend him before he or she can do more damage”. I'm Robert Grey, Channel 5.


*Camera cut back to Veronica *


Veronica: Thank you, Bob. I promise you, folks, that the very minute we receive more information on this case we will report it ASAP. But due to federal involvement we do not have any more conclusive information at this time.


In other, slightly ironic news, crime rates have dropped along every other area of the board, recently, in response to what many have reported as “vigilante involvement”. Sources have revealed that different masked vigilantes have taken up citizenship in New York City, and have been combatting various levels of street violence for the past 6 months. While most of our audience is well aware, these “superheroes” have excited local members of the populace since their appearance, but police are busy on the hunt for these men. It is unclear whether they are in league with one another, but their actions are illegal, and this news station discourages the ordinary citizenry from joining in their apparent crusade.


Veronica: We'll be right back with more breaking news updates after the break.

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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Baz Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 04/September/2013 at 22:20
In an apartment in a run down area of New York we find Nero

Nero: Superheroes? I quite like the sound of that, but really what is illegal about stopping crime when the police are too busy with other things? Making the City a safe place is what it's all about. I'm not sure who the other so called vigilantes are, but I know, I can feel it in my gut, we are all good people doing what's best for the city.

Nero looks over at his table and see's loads of marking to be done

Nero: If only these so called hackers could target school systems instead, it would save a lot of hassle having to grade these papers.

PING you have mail

Nero: An email at this time of evening? Who could that be?

Nero makes his way to the laptop to check the email

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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Steven Nyte Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 04/September/2013 at 22:34
If I were a member of this TV Show, I would say "Winter is coming." But as it stands, the current weather only reminds me of home. The more the temperatures drop, the more I feel the longing for the icy freshness of the winds rushing through the fjords. Over here, it is just cool, but the air still stinks of too much pollution. Spirits, why here?

The winds howl around the manmade canyons of skyscrapers in Manhattan. Olaf Torlofsson pulls his jacket a bit tighter around himself, as if that would help. He is wearing just a light denim jacket over a short sleeved T-shirt and faded jeans. People around him huddle together in their fur lined coats and heavy winter jackets. Frowning, Olaf turns around a corner onto Park Avenue. In front of him, the blue-grey facade of the Scandinavia House tries its best to blend into the buildings next to it. This has been Olafs daily workplace for the last 2 years, 2 years which had still not been enough to get him accustomed to New York. He still felt like a stranger, walking through town, taking the subway. He did attract more than the occasional gaze, standing at well over 6 feet tall, with a hulking frame. More often though it is his silvery-white hair that draws the interest of people on the subway, combined with his light skin and steel blue eyes. 

Father used to say, if I grew a beard and let the hair grow, I would look like I´d jumped right out of the eddas of old. Maybe that´s why I shave. 

Passing two heavily muffled New Yorkers, Olaf pushes through the doors of the Scandinavia House. A heavyset women sits at the reception as Olaf makes his way over to her.

Oh Spirits. Angela is mad about something. Please don´t let her rant about it.

The moment Olaf steps to the counter to retrieve his keys, Angela starts. 

Angela: Hi Olaf! Did you hear about these bank robberies? My bank´s been robbed just a few hours ago and those goddamn cops won´t even tell me if my money is gone or not. "Ongoing investigation", bullshit! It´s all over the news which banks were robbed! Why don´t they just say who´s money has been taken and who´s has not? I mean, seriously, how am I supposed to pay rent and all if all my money is gone and I don´t even know about it. I mean.... are you even listening? YOUR money could be gone too!

Olaf had tuned out the annoying pitch of Angelas voice the instant she started speaking. Problem was, his keys are still dangling from her angrily moving left index finger. 

Odin, does that woman ever stop? 
Olaf: No, Angela. My money cannot be gone. I get paid in cash. I send off most of my money back home. Just give me my keys please? I need to get on my rounds and would like to change into my uniform first.

Olafs voice brings Angela out of her rage-induced rant. Almost dreamlike she put his keys onto the counter.

Angela: What? Oh... of course. How nice of you to send money home. Supporting your family. Nice.

Olaf thinks a silent prayer to the spirits as he grabs his keys and makes his way through a sidedoor marked "employees only". A small computer terminal stands right behind the door. With a few finger movements, Olaf enters his key and gets the notification that he officially is now on duty.

As if I am ever OFF duty...

Reaching his locker, Olaf trades his denim jacket and T-Shirt for a black shirt with a silver shoulder crest, reading "Scandinavia House - Security". Normally, there would be black pants going with this shirt, however in the two years Olaf has worked here, people have gotten used to him, walking the halls in his faded jeans. Olaf walks a well known path through the house, into a small chamber in the back regions. There, in thick glass cabins, four statues loom above him, each carved from a different stone, masterworks of stonemasonry. Each statue almost 8 feet tall, the four animal spirits seem to look down on Olaf as he enters their chamber. Immediately, Olaf begins his daily ritual. Walking up to each statue, Olaf takes a knee and bows his head, murmuring.

Thank you for your speed, Wolf, great hunter of the north. Thank you for your strength, Bear, great defender of home and hearth. Thank you for your toughness, Turtle, great roamer of the seas. Thank you for your fire, Phoenix, eternal avatar of rebirth.

As always, the spirits remain silent, but Olaf feels their appreciation.

I will never understand what you do there.

The voice speaks softly from the entrance to the room. Olaf stands and turns around.

Good Morning, Mister Eriksson. I am merely paying my respects to the sprits within these statues, as I was instructed to do by my father and his father before him.

Mr. Eriksson: Whatever floats your boat, I guess. I know I have some viking ancestry too, however I definately do not believe in that voodoo stuff. But hey, that was not why I wanted to talk to you.

Olaf felt the disdain the spirits held for Mr. Eriksson, one of the men responsible for the acquiring and keeping of the old norse artifacts stored in the Scandinavia House. Olaf himself did not like the man either, but today, something was different.

Mr. Eriksson: You know, despite your funny beliefs, I like you, Olaf. Which is why I´ve come here to tell you, you may want to look for a new job. I´m sure a jacked dude like you has no problem working as security somewhere else. Thing is, the Bank of America that was robbed today, did you hear about that?

Olaf nodded in understanding, knowing full well that the spirits would never let him part from their side but determined to keep up the facade he had been playing for two years.

Mr. Eriksson: Yeah, well, the police won´t give us any information yet, but it may be that some of our funds were stolen there too. In which case, we will probably have to... cut back... on some of the staff.... and well, since you´re pretty much only guarding this room, which is fine and all... but you know, those four statues won´t run away, I guess.... and it should be pretty easy to spot someone trying to carry out an 8ft, over 2 ton massive granite wolf through the back door, should it not? So, yeah, I´m just saying you might be in need of a new job...

Olaf frowned slightly. Yes, he knew that he would not lose his position as the guardian of the spirits, but this development nonetheless would cause unneccessary trouble for him. Just as he thought about looking into those robberies, a wave of positive emotion surged through him, as strong as he has seldom felt it. With it came a sense of urgency that was entirely new to Olaf. He told Mr. Eriksson that he understood the predicament, then watched the man leave. Turning to the spirits, Olaf felt their wish to investigate the robberies, felt their eternal knowledge that these robbers might just be more than ordinary thieves. 

Finally. Had nothing to do in over a year now. I will start gathering some intel tonight.

A slight smile spread across Olafs face as he felt the assurance from the spirits flow through him. Maybe it was time to bring out the viking again.
 


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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote HBKDX97 Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 04/September/2013 at 23:26

*In an undisclosed location, a figure sits in a large armchair in front of a huge wall of different computer panels, showing different locations throughout New York. The Brooklyn Bridge teems with life as people wait in traffic to get home from a long day at work. Times Square is flooded with foot traffic as tourists mill about from one attraction to another, rubber necking at the grandness of the enormous city. The New York Public Library, a few blocks down from the Bank of America Tower, is quiet as the security guards and other employees inside begin to close down shop and leave for home. And the Empire State Building rises majestically above the rest of the skyscrapers, brushing clouds with its spire. *


???: Let's hear it for New York, folks.


*Over a loudspeaker somewhere in the room, Alicia Key's “Empire State of Mind” bumps out, as the figure chuckles lightly before typing instructions into a keyboard in front of them. The middle screen (footage of the FBI headquarters in the city) switches to the outside of the door of the room, revealing a darkened hallway and a large, 6 foot 10 bald man in a suit and tie carrying a plate of food in his right hand. He stops, and raises his left hand to knock: *


???: Come in.


*The behemoth sheepishly drops his hand and opens the door, setting the food down on the table top.


Rowan: Grilled chicken over asparagus and black berries, boss.


???: Thank you, Rowan. Once this is over I promise that your investments will be taken care of as planned.


Rowan: Thank you, boss.


???: Do you realize the scale of our ventures today?


*Rowan shakes his head *


???: As of this very moment we have collected roughly 42 billion dollars from different persons throughout the city. Donald Trump's corporate account was influential, of course, but he is but one of the many that we will have utilized. And this common (albeit easy) thievery is only Step One of the plan, big guy. Once we're able to contract the others and bank roll the world's finest levels of criminal deviants and heavy hitters to our cause, well we shall be unstoppable. The world will be ours within a matter of minutes.


Rowan: It's good, boss.


*The figure slumps down into the chair and begins to work on the food prepared for her. *


???: I'm glad you think so. Just remember your level of loyalty throughout this, and your family will not be killed. Otherwise, I have no further use for you tonight. Return to barracks.


Rowan: Yes ma'am.


*Rowan slumps out of the room, as the figure in the chair slices her chicken into small pieces, with almost surgical precision. *


-----------------------------------------


Lower East Side, Manhattan


*Fletcher sits on his couch in his one bedroom apartment, flips off the news program on his t.v, and continues tuning his guitar, strumming each individual note and twisting the metal screw at the instrument's head slightly as each note reverberates from the body. Once he's finishes, he strides to a mirror in the bathroom, flips his hair to the side and rearranges it accordingly. He returns to the couch and picks up the joint he rolled earlier from the ashtray, puts it to his mouth and grabs a lighter, burning the edge off and puffing slowly. *


Fletcher: They'll be here late, as always. They always complain about how slowly we've been growing, yet they can't even prepare and get us to a venue on time.


*He allowed himself to reboot his thoughts, going over everything that had happened that day. His fight with his mother, the trip to the tattoo parlor (got the finishing touches to the tattoo of a bumblebee poised to sting on the underside of his wrist, the coloring was fantastic), and finishing up preparing the setlist for that night's gig at the Bowery Ballroom raced through his head, and slowly mellowed down as the THC hit his system and gave him a pleasant head buzz. *


Fletcher: Once I finish this little baby, I'll go work on my bow and tinker with the new arrow protocol I've been trying to perfect.


*He sighed, and sank into the couch as he took another puff. Suddenly, an explosion boomed in the distance, and he jumped up and dashed to his room and grabbed his gear, and threw off his stage attire and began cinching on his “other” uniform. *


Fletcher: God's damned. I'll leave a note for Tyko to cover for me. I should just let him step in for all the time I've had to bail lately.


He finished dressing, grabbed his bow, quiver, and small satchel of “equipment”. He hastily scribbled a note on a Sticky Pad and attached it to the door before sliding out the window and down the fire escape of his apartment complex. *

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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote DangerZone Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 05/September/2013 at 00:16
"I have money, as much as you want. Just don't kill me" He was head boss of one of the five major crime families in the city, and he was crying like a little girl. he was curled up in the corner of his penthouse apartment's dining room

He saw the stranger retrieve his knife from his bodyguards eye, as he whimpered he noticed his trousers were wet, the puddle spreading around him was cooling quickly and the stench mingled with the smell of his fear. He was supposed to be invincible, yet one man had cut down six of his lieutenants and twenty of his soldiers without putting so much as a crease on his expensive suit. 

"You and your friends think you're untouchable Andrini, Things change" The stranger grabbed his ankle and dragged him out of the apartment, the keening wail of the crime boss was broken as he bounced up the stairwell. As the stranger dragged Andrini onto the roof the sound of a police siren could be heard getting closer. 

"Your time's up!" The stanger extended his left hand and grabbed Andrini's face, as his hand dwarfed the mob boss' head he lifted him effortlessly and holding him over the safety railing, as the first responding police car pulled up below the stranger released the crime boss. "Say hi to Maschutto and Barzagli"

The door shut on the police car moments before it's roof imploded, the police officer instinctively dropped and rolled away saving himself from serious injuries. Dazed as he was, he did not report this development immediately, having composed himself he reported the situation before entering the building.

He had ran half a dozen paces before the scene hit him, there were four bodies in the lobby alone. He backed out of the building and awaited back up, an army of police officers swept the building and found no traces of anyone except the deceased crime family. The Andrini family had been systematically taken apart, just as the Maschutto and Barzagli families had been in the preceding week.


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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote Steven Nyte Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 05/September/2013 at 09:11
Olaf was trudging along the street, only attracting a few more disbelieving gazes than usual. It was truly amazing that New Yorkers would find a hulking 6ft4 man in regular clothing more peculiar than the same man in full norse battle armor, including several throwing axes dangling from his belt and a twin bladed battleaxe strapped to his back. The sleeting wind howling around the buildings did not faze him in the slightest now, his fur lined leather tunic keeping out the cold well enough to balance the cold steel on his greaves and armguards. He had just arrived at the Bank of America, where the police force had already cleared out again. The wail of sirens was near though, New Yorks finest were gathered around an inconspicuous warehouse not far away where apparently someone had jumped from the roof or was thrown from the roof directly onto the roof of a police cruiser. An explosion was heard with a slight shockwave ruffling the strew newspaper sheets on the streets. 

Oh spirits, guide me. Can I enter the bank now? Should I check out that explosion?

Instantly, his instincts turned away from the bank and towards the wailing sirens of the police cruisers. Frowning, Olaf turned away from the bank and started sneaking to the twilight of a side alley, creeping towards the warehouse and the column of smoke, rising over the buildings.
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote HBKDX97 Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 05/September/2013 at 09:14
Fletcher: My god father, what is going on here?

*Fletcher sprang from the top of the large steel roof of the building across the street from the Andrini Incorporated warehouse, and landed softly against the brick wall of the building next to it before sliding down slightly and bouncing off and rolling on impact with the ground in the snow covered alley way. He sank into the shadows (thrown by the lights of the patrol cars parked in front of the collapsed building on the other side and made thicker by the advancing night) and watched as people flocked from the surrounding neighborhood and gathered behind the police tape wrapped around the perimeter of the complex.

He climbed on top of a dumpster close by (after checking to make sure that no one was watching, of course) and shimmied up to the middle of the fire escape before perching on the guardrail and watching the proceedings.*

Fletcher: It looks (and sounded like) an explosion, and that building looks wrecked. But there isn't any damage strewn around and scattered across the road. Did the roof implode? How in Hades is that possible?

*He noticed a police car being examined by several forensic officers, and evidence tags placed here and there around the hood and roof. It was caved in as well, and he noticed a body laying crossways through the midpoint of the roof. Blood trickled down onto the crushed window frames.*

Fletcher: Even stranger. I should've brought my street clothes so I could take a closer look.

*
He scanned the crowd, trying to pinpoint anything out of the ordinary. The only person who didn't seem in the least bit surprised or even excited about the crime scene was a large, silver-haired man (wearing what appeared to be FULL NORDIC ARMOR no less) who seemed to be made of granite as he stood completely still and grimly looked on. He occupied an odd pocket of space within the crowd, as if the other spectators subconsciously avoided getting to close to him. Slowly, as Fletcher watched, he shook his head and backed out of the crowd, before taking off down the street and striding away at a relatively quick pace.

That's all it took for Fletcher to get curious, and he climbed up to the roof top quickly, before taking off at a full sprint and launching himself across the expanse between the next two buildings, barely grazing across to safety.*

Fletcher: This process will be so much easier when I have my zipline arrows ready to go.

*
He continued to skim the tops of the buildings, tracking the wall of a man for 5 blocks before the hulking figure turned left and crossed the street. As Fletcher began his descent to ground level, he noticed the man furitively glance over his shoulder and slip into a dark alleyway.

Fletcher: He's on to me. Something has to be up.

*
He slid down the wall to the ground below, thanking his luck as the streets had emptied to go check out the proceedings back down the road. Wearing full Greek archer's regalia in the middle of Manhattan isn't exactly normal, and could attract more attention than was convenient.

He ducked into the alleyway to find it branched into two different directions, and cursed himself for not learning much in terms of tracking and following a trail. SUDDENLY, he heard a low growl emanate from the shadows as some type of beastly figured emerged behind him, and he just had time to duck as the creature (or was it a half-human?) leaped soared through the air above him and slid in the snow. He tunred and ran as fast as he could, as the creature whirled around and gave chase, a keening howl erupting from it's maw.*


Edited by HBKDX97 - 05/September/2013 at 09:17
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The fierce hunting instinct and speed of the wolf was surging through Olaf as the spirit´s blessing surged through him. Low growls eminated from his throat while his feet pounded the trampled snow in the alleyway. In front of him, a low slung figure in what appeared to be greek battle regalia sprinted through the alley. The fierce pride of the hunt brought a wolfish grin to Olafs face as he closed in on his prey.

Thank you for you speed, Wolf, great hunter of the north. This one is not going to evade me. I also thank you, Wolf, for the ghastly form you made me appear to this one. Fear is the best motivation for the hunted. But I shall catch him. And I will know why he tried to tail me, foolishly thinking you would not notice his presence, great hunter.

Olaf crouched even lower, one hand slid one of the throwing axes out of his belt, ready to unleash an underhanded throw when the Wolf discouraged him from doing so. Frowning, Olaf put the axe back and doubled up his speed, gaining fast on the person in front of him. With a growl, he leaped and took a swipe at the heels of the running greek warrior. Surpise was on his side, as the other stumbled and balanced his fall with a smooth roll, coming up turned to face Olaf, somehow an arrow already nocked and aimed at Olafs head. With another wolfish grin, Olaf slowly released his battle axe from his back and rested it on his shoulder.

Thank you for your stamina, Wolf, great hunter of the north. Just a bit longer. I must not show any fatigue.

Even though the whole scene did not take more than a couple of minutes, Olaf was feeling his muscles burning, but for now, the spirit was strong with him. Olafs eyes glowed white and his voice was a fierce growl as he opened his mouth.

Olaf: What now, Achilles? Or is it Odysseus? Why did you tail me?
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Post Options Post Options   Thanks (0) Thanks(0)   Quote HBKDX97 Quote  Post ReplyReply Direct Link To This Post Posted: 05/September/2013 at 09:59
*Fletcher kept his arrow notched and aimed at the giant ass wolf-man standing in front of him. After nearly 6 months of saving people from muggings and petty crimes, this was definitely the most interesting (albeit terrifying) day "on the job" so far. He dropped the pitch of his voice an octave and spoke with as much authority as he could muster.*

Far Strike: I am Far Strike, son of Apollo Pythian, Lord of Light, and I protect the people of this city. Not to offend you, creature, but your appearance at that building wasn't exactly discreet. At such an odd scene, I saw you and decided to see if you had anything to do with it.

*He tried to shift to the man-beast's left side, but the creature growled menacingly, blocking his advances. He kept his bowstring tight.*

Far Strike: Now that I've given you my name, I would like to know just who you are and for what purpose you are here. I'll have you know that I take the protection of this city deathly serious, and I'll also have you know that this arrow is sharpened to razor's precision, and is coated in drakon poison that will render you incapable of movement for longer than you should wish to find out.
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Godly children. I have heard of those.

Olaf felt the Wolf retreating. His eyes stopped glowing and the spectral illusion of a wolfish appearance faded. Instanty, exhaustion hit him like a truck, to the point where almost buckled to one knee.

Why now, Wolf? Oh, I understand. No danger from this one. Thank you for your wisdom, spirits.

Olaf steadied himself and clasped the battle axe back into it´s holdings. A knowing smile spread across his face as he felt a spiritual nudge towards Far Strike.

Olaf: You can call me... the Spirit Guard. Do not worry, son of Apollo, you have nothing to fear of me. As for my purpose, that is my own and will remain so for the time being. However, I can assure you that I do not mean you, this city or the people in it any harm. Also, as you can see, I am in no means a "creature". What you saw was just an illusion.

Olafs breath slowly came back as he was talking to the greek warrior.

Olaf: I would appreciate you lowering your bow. As you can see, I have put away my axe.
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